


Can't Sleep Alone

by girlwithaplan



Category: We Can Be Heroes (2020)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:00:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29615355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlwithaplan/pseuds/girlwithaplan
Summary: Comforting Marcus on the anniversary of his wife's death.
Relationships: Marcus Moreno/Reader, Marcus Moreno/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Can't Sleep Alone

“Can you come over?” 

His raspy, tired voice floats into your ear and your heart sinks. But you’d never deny him anything, he so rarely asks as it is. 

“Of course, baby,” you assure him, already getting up and grabbing your overnight bag, “what happened?” 

Marcus Moreno  _ sniffles  _ on the other end of the line and the shock of hearing your strong, put-together boyfriend in tears stops you in your tracks. 

“Missy, she—“ he pauses, clearly trying to hold it together so he can tell you what’s going on, “she didn’t want to go to the grave site, she said she just wanted to go my Mom’s and not stay here with me. That I was making her sad.” 

Today is the anniversary of the late Mrs. Moreno’s death and you weren’t sure if you’d even hear from him today. Marcus had told you of his plans for the day and you’d assured him that you’d be available all day and all night if he needed or wanted anything at all. 

Missy’s twelve now and you don’t blame her for wanting somespace, but you know how much Marcus values time with his daughter. And grieving with her today would’ve made him feel better, but he’s too good of a Dad to deny her. He knows her needs have to come first and if she didn’t want to go, he wouldn’t have made her. 

But that doesn’t mean that going alone was easy for him. And the mental image of him standing alone, placing a new wreath on his late wife’s headstone brings tears to your own eyes. With new resolve, you start throwing things into your bag so you can get to him faster.

“Oh, Marcus,” is all you can manage without crying more and he sighs, sounding defeated. 

“It’s fine,” he says very unconvincingly, “I understand I’ve been kind of a mess today.” 

He tries to laugh at himself but it just comes out a pitiful little hiccup. 

“Do you need me to get you anything?” 

You ask him as you slip on shoes and head to your car. 

“My mom made dinner and I haven’t eaten yet so it’s all still here,” he says, sighing. 

You’re about to say goodbye and start driving when he adds, 

“I just don’t want to sleep alone in this big house tonight. I can’t,” he pauses, clearly trying to stifle tears, “I can’t do it.” 

“You don’t have to, “ you promise, pulling out of your parking space, “I’ll be there in ten minutes, okay?” 

He says okay back and hangs up and you step on it, trying to make it to him as quickly as possible. 

…

When you arrive, you walk up the steps to the front door and before you can even knock, it swings open and Marcus lets you in. You drop your keys on the table by the door, and before you can even speak, Marcus takes your bag off your shoulder and sets it on the floor, then he’s suddenly hugging you so hard you stumble a little with the force of it. 

He buries his head in your shoulder and hangs on tight and you bring your arms around his back. It only takes a second for the sobs to break free and Marcus trembles against you. You do your best to hold him, bringing a hand up to cradle the back of his head like he does to Missy and to you when he’s the one doing the comforting. 

You’re not sure how long you stand there, humming softly and letting him take what he needs in this moment. You’d let him take anything at any time, and you hope he knows. 

Eventually, he pulls back, wiping at his eyes, but he doesn’t let you go. He looks down at you with his swollen, red eyes and whispers, 

“Thank you for coming.” 

You shake your head and lean up to press a soft kiss to his lips before you say, 

“Whatever you need.” 

He chases your lips, kissing you back for a few long minutes before he grabs your hand and walks you into the living room. 

The two of you sit on the couch, hands clasped tightly while Marcus tells you more details of what went down today. He’d tried to get his daughter to talk about her mom, to grieve and mourn with him, but she refused. He says he knows she’s growing up and that she needs space, but he’d hoped they could do this day together. Tears fill his eyes again as he recounts how she wouldn’t even let him give her a full hug goodbye, practically running from him into his mother’s house when he dropped her off at her request. 

“And it’s fine,” he says with glassy eyes, “it’s not fair of me to expect a kid to want to do the same things I want to do today. I just wanted her with me, that’s all.” 

You squeeze his hand and reassure him, 

“I was a twelve year old girl once and I promise, she’ll come to you when she’s ready.”

Marcus nods at your words and turns to look at you. His big, beautiful,  _ sad  _ brown eyes pierce your heart so sharply it almost takes your breath away. He leans his forehead against yours and says very quietly, 

“I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” you tell him back and you just sit for a few minutes, Marcus taking deep breaths and you watching him, hoping you’re doing and saying the right things right now. 

Eventually, you talk him into eating and you heat up portions of the food Marcus’ mother made for both of you. Marcus mostly picks at his food, but you figure trying is better than nothing and he thanks you for cleaning up before dragging you back to curl up in his oversized armchair. It’s your favorite piece of furniture in his house, allowing at least 2 people to sit comfortably with its wide seat and firm cushions for back support. 

Missy complains it’s not soft enough, but Marcus likes it for his aching muscles. He pulls you close once you sit down and shuffles down so he can rest his head on your shoulder. Once he’s situated, you turn on the tv at a low volume and play with his hair, twisting and twirling the soft strands until you feel him relax, snuggling as close to you as he physically can. You slip your hand under his shirt to rub his back and he shudders with how good it feels to be taken care of like this. 

Neither of you speak for a long time. Marcus needs a safe place to fall apart and you hope you’re doing a good job of being that for him. Time melts away as you stay still, holding Marcus in the quiet calm of the house.

It’s nearly ten PM when his phone starts to buzz. He doesn’t sit up from your embrace, using his powers to zap the phone into his hand so quickly you can barely see it. It’s a facetime call from his daughter so he tries to smile when he answers, 

“Hey, honey.” 

You can’t see the screen from where you’re sitting but you can hear the soft gasps as Missy cries into the phone, 

“I’m s-sorry, Daddy,” she says between sobs and you can hear Anita shushing her gently as she talks, “I j-just didn’t want to go there today. I don’t want you to be m-mad at me.” 

Marcus is quick to reassure her, 

“Oh, Missy, I’m not, honey, I swear. I understand. It’s hard to talk about your Mom. I get it.” 

Marcus continues to talk her down, promising a few more times that he’s not mad, he’s  _ never  _ going to be mad at how she chooses to mourn. Missy’s tears eventually stop and she asks, 

“Are you gonna be okay if I stay with abuela?” 

Marcus chuckles and assures her that you’re here so he’s just fine. She insists on seeing you as proof, so when Marcus turns the camera you wave and blow her a kiss. 

“I love you, Missy, always,” he tells her before he hangs up and she says it back, making Marcus promise to bring you to abuela’s tomorrow morning for breakfast before she hangs up. 

He sits up and yawns and you ask, 

“Ready for bed?” 

He nods and takes your hand again, leading you upstairs even though you already know the way. You both get ready quickly, and when you slip into bed next to Marcus, he turns off the light before scooting close to kiss you. You’re a little surprised when it gets slightly heated, but you let Marcus take the lead. 

You’ve made out with Marcus many times before, and every time feels like heaven. His lips are so soft and his wandering hands are so gentle as he holds your head in place with one and pulls your thigh to drape over his hips with the other. It’s so slow and sweet and  _ good _ that you feel like you could do this for hours. His palm rubs up and down your thigh, methodically stroking your skin and grounding himself in the feeling of you tangled up with him. He sucks on your tongue and you moan, pressing yourself tightly to his body. 

You’re boneless against him by the time he stops, lips swollen and slick and eyes dazed with love when he looks at you. He just stares at you in the near-darkness, drinking in your features like he’s committing you to memory, like you're not already etched into the fabric of each other’s souls. 

“Goodnight, mi amor,” he tells you, holding you close, nuzzling your hair. 

“Goodnight,” you reply, already drifting off, thinking you couldn’t be more in love than you already are. 


End file.
